


When We Talk

by bizzybee



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Birthday, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Ferdibert Week 2020 (Fire Emblem), First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25785733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizzybee/pseuds/bizzybee
Summary: "'What?' Hubert said, the vitriol Ferdinand was used to hearing from him long since faded.'Nothing.' Ferdinand laughed off the question. Hubert watched him for a moment, then huffed.It was not nothing.Ferdinand had fallen in love."
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 18
Kudos: 205
Collections: Ferdibert Week 2020





	When We Talk

**Author's Note:**

> For Day One of Ferdibert Week: Confessions. 
> 
> Title comes from the poem "Dislocated Room" by Richard Silken. The full quote is, _"Is there an acceptable result? Do we mean something when we talk? / Is it enough that we are shuddering from the sound?"_

Ferdinand has never been one for coffee. 

It's dull, and dreary, and no matter how much sugar he may sweeten it with, it still leaves a rather muddy taste behind in his mouth. 

But then again, it is Hubert's birthday. Ferdinand believes that his friend may value his stomaching of the Srengi Light Roast more than the gift he's about to give him. Hubert's smile, so calculated, yet teasing, is just begging for Ferdinand to grimace. 

So, of course, that is the one thing Ferdinand tells himself he must not do. Even if it is Hubert’s birthday, there is not a special enough occasion under the sun wherein Ferdinand would allow him to win so easily. 

He takes a long, slow pull from his coffee, smile not faltering as he watches Hubert over the rim of his cup.

Hubert sips at his own coffee, utterly unfazed. 

“So,” Ferdinand starts, setting down his cup with a clink. “How has your birthday been so far?” 

“Well,” Hubert contemplates. “I’ve only been to the Council Meeting this morning, and now tea with you.” 

“And?”

Hubert rolls his eyes. “Yes, Ferdinand. I am enjoying it.” 

“Splendid.” The coffee doesn’t taste so bad after the first swallow, actually. Still dreary, but bearable. “I know you said you did not want any gifts-”

“Ferdinand-” Hubert starts warningly.

“Oh, hush. It is just a little one.” Ferdinand waves off his concerns, ducking beneath the table. He emerges with a thin, flat box with no adornments and places it atop the table. 

“It isn’t coffee?” asks Hubert, raising an eyebrow. He slides it across the table with one hand, fingers tapping against the table. 

Ferdinand scoffs. “Please. You expect me to gift you something that would not be a surprise? Now open it.” 

Hubert hums, contemplating. “It’s considered impolite to open gifts in the presence of company.” 

“I do not care,” Ferdinand says, smiling into his coffee as Hubert chuckles. “Open it.” 

Hubert complies, setting down his own cup of coffee and moving his saucer to the side. Ferdinand watches, anticipation curling in his gut. 

Hubert unclasps the latches on the side, letting the black box fall open, revealing a cushion of red satin. 

Ferdinand watches Hubert carefully, but his expression is schooled in neutrality, his brow only slightly creased, his gaze turned down. 

Ferdinand’s just about given up hope when Hubert looks up. 

“It is a straight razor,” he supplies helpfully, adding another spoonful of sugar to his coffee. 

“I can see that,” says Hubert, and Ferdinand wonders if he’s imagining the tightness in his voice. 

Ferdinand sips his coffee. “I know that you have always liked rather fancy shaving supplies, and I thought that that one in particular would fit your fancy.” 

Hubert’s hand ghosts across his jaw, as if imagining the glide of the razor across his skin.

Ferdinand’s quite proud of it, if he says so himself. He’d never tell Hubert this, of course, but he had to order it custom-made from a merchant that sold personal products in the marketplace. The handle is slender and silver, black roses embossed along the side; the blade ebony and whisker-thin. 

“It does,” Hubert says slowly, tracing one gloved finger along the handle where it lays in its bed of fabric. “Thank you.” 

"You are most welcome," says Ferdinand, the grin finally breaking across his face. "And you dare not attempt to pay me back, my friend. A gift is not an obligation." 

Hubert huffs. "I should hope it is not, since we did agree to not purchase each other birthday gifts in the midst of a war." 

"My dear friend," says Ferdinand, glancing down at the dregs of his coffee before looking back up at Hubert. "You should have known I would never abide by that." 

"Hm." Hubert's brow creases. He snaps the box shut. "I suppose you're right." 

"As always."

Ferdinand pours himself another cup of coffee, a comfortable silence settling upon them.

"I fear I may not be as apt at gift giving as you are," Hubert warns. "Especially on such a short notice." 

Ferdinand waves him off. "Do not worry yourself, Hubert. If you simply have a cup of tea with me, as we are doing now, your company is quite enough."

And maybe, Ferdinand thinks as Hubert watches him with warm, curious eyes, he will even earn another smile.

Perhaps even better than Hubert's smile is his glare when the rest of the Strike Force presents him with a cake in the shape of the number 22 later that day. Ferdinand thinks he's quite handsome like this, brow drawn, lips turned down in a frown, even as the flush high on his cheeks betraying the fact that he's grateful. Maybe even happy.

It hadn't always been like this. 

Ferdinand isn't quite sure when it changed. 

He believes it occurred slowly, a grain of sand added to a castle with every hesitant smile, every argument resolved, every meeting to discuss supply runs over coffee. 

He isn't sure when exactly his feelings had shifted, but he does remember the day he realized they had. 

It was two moons ago. One of their regular meetings to catch up on paperwork. 

Hubert had, without even looking, scooped two spoonfuls of sugar and a dollop of honey into Ferdinand's tea. 

Ferdinand had stared at him for so long that Hubert looked up, an inquisitive look on his face. 

“What?” Hubert said, the vitriol Ferdinand was used to hearing from him long since faded. 

“Nothing.” Ferdinand laughed off the question. Hubert watched him for a moment, then huffed. 

It was not nothing. 

Ferdinand had fallen in love.

* * *

Hubert refuses Edelgard’s offer to take the rest of his birthday off, but begrudgingly accepts the invitation for Ferdinand to take half of his workload so they both may finish their evening work at the same time. 

Without needing anything so trivial as speaking, they fall into step together, extinguishing the lanterns in the Cardinal's Hall as they exit. 

Hubert sets a brisk, nearly brutal pace; one that, if not so familiar to Ferdinand, would lead him to believe that Hubert simply wanted to escape his company that much sooner. 

He knows that this is not the case in the way that it only takes Hubert a moment to pause when Ferdinand stops walking. 

They've just exited the building when Hubert turns. "Are you alright?"

Even the fact that Hubert is checking on his wellbeing feels new to Ferdinand. 

And the truth is, he is not alright. He is not alright because when Hubert turned, the moonlight caught on his silver collar, glinting bright in the night air, casting spells on Ferdinand as easily as if he were bewitched. 

"I am fine," Ferdinand says instead. 

Satisfied, Hubert turns away. 

"It is only," Ferdinand continues, emboldened by the idea that he needs not look Hubert in the eye for this part. "I thought we may walk a bit slower tonight. If only because the stars are quite beautiful tonight."

Hubert huffs after a moment, still not turning. "I suppose that would be amenable," he concludes, and Ferdinand watches as he tucks his hands behind his back. "It is a nice night.” 

Ferdinand can feel himself smiling as he bursts forward to catch up with Hubert. He mirrors Hubert’s stance, and they continue. 

Hubert shifts beside him, their shoulders brushing. Ferdinand can tell he’s resisting the urge to continue his quick pace, and part of Ferdinand wants to let him. 

It is his birthday, after all. 

But the stars really are quite beautiful, and the moon is bright, and Ferdinand is happy, almost, with the barest of touches and the comparative calm of the Monastery Grounds at night, the bustling of people replaced with crickets chirping and the soft sounds of Hubert’s breathing as they walk together. 

“Has it been a good day?” Ferdinand asks as they cross the courtyards. 

A pause. 

“It has,” admits Hubert.

"Splendid." 

Silence fills the air again, but it's not the comfortable quiet Ferdinand has grown used to in Hubert's presence, filled with tea and coffee and paperwork and candlelight. It feels charged, somehow, and Ferdinand can hear Hubert opening his mouth as if to speak before closing it again. 

Ferdinand glances at Hubert, only to discover that he's staring right back. 

"I wanted to say-" Hubert starts, then swallows. 

Ferdinand could swear his cheeks are pink, illuminated how they are in the cool light of the moon- 

"I wanted to say thank you," Hubert bursts in a single puff of air. He stops moving, hands coming to fall at his side, to grip the fabric of his trousers as though to ground himself. "For the gift."

"Think nothing of it," says Ferdinand automatically, waving him off. "It was hardly a trifle."

Hubert hesitates for a moment, then nods decisively. Without another word, he continues on their trek. 

Ferdinand has certainly grown accustomed to Hubert's strange mannerisms enough for this not to faze him, but he can't help but muse on them as they walk in and out of patches of moonlight, Hubert's footsteps silent beside his. Ferdinand watches the curve of Hubert's bangs, his face shadowed. 

Whereas Ferdinand's hair brushes beneath his shoulders now, Hubert has been keeping his shorter, the ends just barely reaching his high collar. Ferdinand thinks he would like to touch it.

"You're staring."

Ferdinand startles.

"I was only… lost in thought," Ferdinand says, and then they've paused once again, Hubert on the first step leading up to their dorms. It's exaggerated the difference in their heights even more, and Ferdinand finds himself lifting his chin to meet Hubert's gaze. 

"Oh?" says Hubert, raising an eyebrow. "Indulge me."

"Your hair," Ferdinand blurts. "I think it looks rather nice this short." 

“Oh,” Hubert says. His eyes widen, and Ferdinand watches a flush creep high across his cheekbones. “Thank you.” 

Ferdinand nods. 

“Ferdinand…” 

“Yes?”

Hubert shifts. “I wanted to say thank you.” 

“You already have, Hubert, and it is as I told you. There is no need to thank me.”

Hubert shakes his head. “You are insufferable.” 

“Pardon?”

Hubert huffs, flicks his hair back, tugs on the cuffs of his jacket. 

“Hubert,” Ferdinand smiles, voice teasing. “You can give me a compliment, I promise it will not be your undoing.” 

“I can give compliments,” snaps Hubert. 

“Can you, now? I find that a bit hard to believe, as I have yet to hear one.” 

“Have you considered that perhaps you haven't been deserving of one?" 

"Never." 

Hubert snorts. "Let's just… keep walking, shall we?"

"If you insist." 

And if Hubert walks a bit closer to Ferdinand as they climb the stairs, Ferdinand does not mention it. 

If Hubert notices the flush crawling down Ferdinand's cheeks, he does not mention it either. 

If they both notice that it has grown quiet between them once again as they walk in step down the hallway, neither say a word. 

Perhaps, however, that silence is the most telling thing of all. 

“Ferdinand.” 

Ferdinand is already pushing open his bedroom door when Hubert speaks up again. 

“Yes, Hubert?” 

Hubert’s been at a loss for words more times today than the rest of his life combined. He steps closer. 

“I…”

Ferdinand swallows. His hand falls away from the door. 

“Are you quite alright?” 

There’s a pause, a stretched out moment of silence, and Hubert’s eyes are bright in the moonlight, a muted green. 

“Must I say it?” 

“Say what?” 

“Surely you must know by now.” 

“Hubert, I can assure you I have received no such divination concerning what you are about to tell me.”

Ferdinand’s heart pounds. 

Hubert takes a deep breath. “I… care for you, Ferdinand. Very deeply.” 

Ferdinand’s heart stops. 

“I have been wanting to say that for quite a long time,” Hubert continues, staring at the ground. 

"Hubert-" Ferdinand starts.

“I, ah, apologize if this is untoward. I know I am not so talented at flattery and gifts as you are.” 

"I-" 

"I should take my leave. If this has ruined your night, then-" 

"You foolish, insufferable man." 

Ferdinand seizes Hubert by the lapels and kisses him. 

"Could you bear to shut your damn mouth for a single second?" Ferdinand asks, pushing Hubert just far enough away to see his face. 

"I- eugh?" 

And goddess, if Hubert doesn't look beautiful when he's surprised. 

"You're an idiot." 

"Pardon?" 

"Were you ever going to let me speak, or were you merely going to blather on and then, I do not know, poison me before I could reject you?"

"Are you… rejecting me?" 

"Hubert. I just kissed you." Ferdinand still hasn't let go of the front of his jacket, and Hubert looks more than a little silly, half-bent over with his brow creased in confusion. 

"Ferdinand-"

"Oh, hush. It is my turn to speak," Ferdinand says. He's leaning up against his door now, Hubert looming over him, and it's nearly impossible to concentrate. “Of course I love you, you great dolt. For at least two moons, and likely much longer. You really must learn to stop speaking over me.” 

Hubert straightens up, smoothing his lapels and taking Ferdinand’s hands in his in the same motion. “And let you interrupt whenever you feel like it? I’d never get a word in edgewise, Ferdinand.” 

“Hush. That is exactly my point.” He brings their joined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to Hubert’s knuckles.

Hubert swallows, looking down. “I must admit I am not sure what to say. I did not imagine getting past this point.” 

“What?” Ferdinand asks. “Did you think I was simply going to reject you and then you would never mention it again?” 

“Precisely,” Hubert says, chuckling. “I tried to save it for the last possible moment.” He looks up, but not at Ferdinand. Hubert stares at the wall behind his head, as if recalling something. “I thought- maybe, after the gift earlier today...” He gives Ferdinand’s hands a squeeze. “But never you mind.” He finally meets Ferdinand’s eyes again. 

This time, when Ferdinand’s heart flutters, it does not feel like the betrayal he once assumed it was. 

This time, when Ferdinand stands on his toes to kiss him, it does not feel like a rushed, last-minute method to get Hubert to shut up. 

This time, Hubert kisses him back. 

Hubert's lips are warmer than Ferdinand thought they would be, but his hands through their sets of gloves is cooler. Their kiss is nothing more than the barest brushing of lips, hands still grasped together in front of them, Ferdinand's eyes fluttering closed in the silence. 

"Ferdinand," Hubert sighs when they part, thumbs skating across the back of his hands. 

"You have got to stop saying my name like that," Ferdinand mumbles. 

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Hubert says, but Ferdinand could have sworn there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"And I am sure that you are lying," says Ferdinand. 

"You are sure of many things that aren't true," Hubert mutters.

"Not everything." Ferdinand says. "In fact, I am unsure of the answer I am about to receive when I ask my next question."

"You? Unsure of anything in your life? Are you sure you're the real Ferdinand von Aegir?" Hubert's tone is mocking, teasing, and gives Ferdinand just enough adrenaline to keep talking. 

Ferdinand releases one of Hubert's hands to swat him on the arm. "I was going to ask you to come in for a nightcap, but if you are going to be a horse's ass about it, I will change my mind."

Hubert blinks, teasing melting into something like confusion. "You are inviting me in for a nightcap?" 

"Is this whole night going to be you repeating everything I say?" Ferdinand says, stomach turning in on itself. 

Instead of answering, Hubert says, "I would like that, I think. I must tell you, though, I am not quite in the mood for a drink." 

Ferdinand swallows. "Neither am I."

Letting Hubert into his room feels like something akin to the time he fell down a flight of stairs as a child. Weightless, rough, confusion and adrenaline making his heart pound. 

It's late, Ferdinand thinks, and he's used to collapsing into bed and immediately falling asleep when he gets home, but he's also used to being alone. 

At least Hubert looks as nervous as he does, Ferdinand thinks. Small victories. 

It's not as though he's never done this before. Not recently, nor often, but still. It should be easy to pull Hubert into his arms, to kiss him again and to not let him leave his bed until the sun rises in the morning. 

Even though they are still joined by gloved hands, the chasm seems too difficult to cross. It was easier when they were outside. Bedrooms have hidden meanings, Ferdinand thinks. And while he appreciates those connotations in what it is they are about to do, they are connotations still. 

"Hubert," Ferdinand says, barely louder than a whisper. 

"Ferdinand." 

Looking back on it, Ferdinand is unsure who moved first. All he knows is this: one moment they were not kissing, the next they were. 

If it sounds simple, maybe that's because it is. Maybe, Ferdinand thinks, it has always been this simple. Maybe it only has taken him a complicated amount of time to recognize exactly how easy it is to kiss Hubert, to pull him closer, to slide his hands beneath his cloak and rest them on the stretch of shirt between his waistcoat and jodhpurs. 

It’s easier still to tilt his head to the side, to dart his tongue along Hubert’s bottom lip, to drink up the shudder that runs through Hubert with closed eyes and wandering hands. A barest flicker in the back of his mind makes him glad that he had forgone the usual armor for the birthday celebrations today, even as he unclasps Hubert’s cloak from around his neck and lets it fall to the ground. 

Ferdinand barely realizes that Hubert’s pulled away until he’s watching him bend down, retrieving his cloak from the floor. 

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Hubert says, standing to his full height with the cloak in his arms. 

“Do you really not know?” Ferdinand teases. “I am undressing you, Hubert.”

“Not with those clumsy fingers, you aren’t,” Hubert snaps, folding his cape neatly over one arm. “I only have the one cloak, and I will not have you getting it wrinkled or dirty on your mess of a floor overnight.” 

“Overnight?” Ferdinand repeats, face coloring. “So you are planning on staying?”

Hubert gives him a look. “Obviously.” 

Ferdinand swallows. “Right. Well. I have no such predilections, so please, feel free to undress me as you will.” 

Hubert huffs, setting his cloak on Ferdinand's desk and immediately starting on his waistcoat. "Eager, are you?" 

"You are the one that is undressing right now," Ferdinand points out, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. 

"And why aren't you?" Hubert asks. 

Ferdinand has to admit he has a point. But still, he can't help but watch as Hubert peels his waistcoat off his shoulders. Someone folding their own clothing shouldn't be attractive, he thinks. But then, he realizes he doesn't care. 

Hubert looks up. "You could at least take off your shoes." 

Ferdinand perks up. "Right. My shoes. Right." He reaches down, unlacing his boots. 

"Unless you want me to taste them." 

Ferdinand jumps, face heating. He looks up, and Hubert looks away, tugging at the cuff of his gloves. "Too much?" 

"Ah, no," Ferdinand says. "Just… surprising." 

"Right," Hubert says, and Ferdinand could swear that he's flustered. 

Ferdinand kicks his boots off, then strips off his jacket, letting it fall to the ground along with first one glove, then the other. He studies Hubert, who's almost looking anxious, straightening the pile of clothing on his desk with an almost intense gaze. 

"Hubert," Ferdinand says gently. They're both stripped to shirtsleeves and trousers, Hubert still gloved. "You know we do not have to do this if you do not wish to, right?" 

"Oh, no." Hubert shakes his head, turning back to Ferdinand. "I wish to." 

Ferdinand's throat goes dry. He stands. "Right. Good. Get on the bed, then." 

Hubert's visible eye widens, but he complies, stepping closer. 

Ferdinand nods towards the bed. "Come, now." 

Hubert crawls on, and Ferdinand follows, giving his shoulder a bit of a tap. "Lay back," he encourages. "I will not hurt you, Hubert." 

Hubert huffs, and he lays back on Ferdinand's pillows. "As if you could." 

"Oh, I absolutely could," Ferdinand argues. He moves forward, bracing himself on Hubert's shoulders, one leg slotted between his. "But maybe not tonight. I shall save it for another time.” 

Their kisses now are a bit more insistent, a bit less chaste as Ferdinand slides one hand beneath Hubert’s collar, the other firm against his hip. Hubert, for his part, bites down on Ferdinand’s lip, sliding his hands up and into bright orange hair. Ferdinand believes he could live in this moment forever, the warmth of Hubert beneath him, lips and teeth and tongue mingling, the soft, nearly silent gasps that spill from Hubert’s lips readily. 

Ferdinand loves those gasps, the small sounds that are both so like and so unlike Hubert to make, almost hidden in a way that makes Ferdinand wonder if they’re purposeful. He wants to pull more than gasps out of Hubert. He wants to hear every sound Hubert has to give, to touch every inch of him, to press him into the mattress so that even when Hubert leaves, the imprint of him remains. 

Even the thought of that has Ferdinand rolling his hips down, his leg pressing into Hubert. 

Hubert pulls back with a curse, breath heavy as he falls back against the pillows. Ferdinand’s hair falls with him, fluttering against Hubert’s cheeks as he looks up at him. 

“Ferdinand, I-” 

Ferdinand leans down, pressing a kiss to Hubert’s jaw as he does another drag of his leg, relishing the feeling of Hubert hardening through his trousers. 

“Ferdinand,” Hubert says more urgently. 

Ferdinand pauses, not lifting his head from where he was about to suck a rather beautiful mark into Hubert’s neck. “Yes?” 

There’s a sputtering sound, and Ferdinand finally pushes himself up fully. Hubert’s watching him with wide eyes, bangs pushed out of his face. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Your hair,” Hubert says, gesturing vaguely. “As much as I enjoy the view of it surrounding you like a,” Hubert gasps when Ferdinand increases the pressure of his leg between his, “like a fucking halo, it keeps falling into my mouth. It’s rather annoying.”

“Annoying?” Ferdinand says. “Nothing about me is ever annoying, thank you very much.” 

Hubert rolls his eyes, but too late - Ferdinand had already felt the twitch against his leg when he argued. “Yes, yes, you’re perfect. Now tie it up before I choke on it.” 

Ferdinand swats Hubert’s arm, but pushes himself up further, readjusting their tangled legs to straddle Hubert's waist, reaching over to pull a ribbon from the pile on his end table. He smiles down at Hubert as he gathers his hair into one hand and wraps the ribbon around it, biting his lip in concentration. 

"Has anyone ever told you you're beautiful?" Hubert asks, hands coming to hold Ferdinand's hips. 

"Many times, yes," Ferdinand mutters, still concentrating on tying the ribbon into a bow. "Has anyone ever told you exactly how delectable you are?" 

"No." 

"Oh." Ferdinand takes a moment to finish, then drops his hands. "Well, Hubert," Ferdinand says, and pops open the first of Hubert's shirt buttons, "I suppose that will have to change." 

"You don't-" 

"Yes, I do," Ferdinand says. He presses a kiss to Hubert's collarbone, lips following his hands as they continue their descent down Hubert's chest, revealing warm skin and the occasional scar, patchy hair and small burns. He can practically feel Hubert's breath hitch when Ferdinand reaches his stomach, untucking shirt from trousers and running gentle hands across his hips. 

"I suppose," Hubert says, voice shaky even as he chuckles. Ferdinand props his chin up on his stomach. "I suppose I won't make you fold my shirt for me." 

"Good," Ferdinand says. He presses one more kiss to the soft skin above Hubert's waistband, then follows his trail back up. "As I was not going to offer." He kisses Hubert before he can reply, hands sliding his shirt off his shoulders.

Hubert's hands are infinitely more efficient, skating down Ferdinand's chest with a touch lighter than air until Ferdinand feels soft leather against his abdomen. 

"Hubert- fuck." Ferdinand sits up again, ignoring Hubert's groan of exasperation. "Calm down," he says, faux-annoyed.

"I don't think I've ever heard you curse before."

"Yes, well, you have never had me in bed before." Ferdinand undoes his cuffs, dropping his shirt off the side of the bed. 

Hubert merely snorts in response, dislodging Ferdinand from his waist as he, too, sits and strips off his shirt. He pauses with it in his lap, glancing at Ferdinand. 

Ferdinand rolls his eyes. “Goddess, fine. Fold it.” 

It’s almost cute, and wholly endearing, he thinks as Hubert immediately lays the shirt flat across his lap, folding it along the creases. 

“You're judging me,” Hubert mutters, flushing as he leans over to place it next to his other clothes. 

“Since when have you cared about me judging you?” asks Ferdinand incredulously. “Though, for the record, I am not judging. Firstly, there are so many other things to judge you about.” 

Hubert unbuttons the cuff of one glove. Ferdinand’s voice stutters. 

“Second- Second of all, I happen to think your habit of always needing to fold your clothes rather humorous," one glove comes off, "if not just- just a bit annoying in a wholly endearing way." 

Hubert huffs as he starts on the second glove. "Endearing." 

"Yes, Hubert, endearing." Ferdinand can't help but stare, to reach forward, to take Hubert’s bare hands in his own and bring them to his lips and scatter kisses against his knuckles, his palms, his wrists. “Although, if you are to fold your trousers, I would much rather you take them off now, so that I may have you all to myself for the rest of the night.” 

Hubert swallows. “Yes,” and his voice is already rough in a way that has Ferdinand shivering. “Goddess, yes.”

There’s a clashing of hands when Ferdinand lets go, both of them reaching for each other’s waistbands, scrambling until Ferdinand relents, lifting his hips and allowing Hubert to roll down his breeches, cock catching on the waistband before springing free. 

But just as Ferdinand pops open the first button on Hubert’s trousers, Hubert presses forward, wrapping one hand around his length and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the base of his neck. 

"Oh, Hubert-" Ferdinand cuts off with a gasp as Hubert bites down on his pulse point and gives his cock a slow pump. 

"Yes, Ferdinand?" Hubert murmurs against his neck, the hot air from his breath making him shiver. 

"Do not tease me, dear." Ferdinand slumps forward, stifling a moan in Hubert's shoulder as he squeezes his base firmly. 

"Tease you?" Hubert says, incredulous even as his other hand sneaks up, his thumb rubbing small circles around Ferdinand's nipple in time with the pumps to his cock. "I have no idea what you speak of." 

"You are an evil, evil man," Ferdinand chides breathlessly. "Now hands off of me so that I may return the favor." 

Hubert retreats immediately, batting away Ferdinand's reaching hands to drop trou. 

Ferdinand shifts, kicking off his jodhpurs as Hubert strips off his, ignoring Ferdinand's snickering as he smooths them out and folds them. 

"One day, I will make it so you do not even think of folding your clothing," Ferdinand declares. 

"We'll see," says Hubert, but he's smiling as he stretches to place his breeches on top of his shirt. 

"Goddess, Hubert, have you no faith in my skills of seduction?” Ferdinand boasts, guiding Hubert back onto the mattress. He leans in, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw, down the column of his throat. “Your lack of confidence in me wounds me.” 

“I knew it.” Hubert’s voice is scathing, but one glance and Ferdinand can tell he doesn’t mean it. “All you’re good at is talk-” 

Ferdinand scrapes his teeth against one of his nipples, effectively shutting Hubert up. 

“What was that, Hubert?” he asks innocently, even as he pinches the same nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Hubert’s hips roll forward, and Ferdinand can already feel a small smear of precum against his stomach where Hubert’s cock slides between them. 

“I will have you know, Hubert,” Ferdinand says, brushing a thumb against his other nipple as he kisses down his sternum, “I am never one to back down from an insinuation,” he spreads Hubert’s thighs with both hands, just barely nibbling at Hubert’s hip as an excuse to hold him down when he bucks, “especially ones with such unfounded claims.” 

Hubert doesn't reply. Ferdinand likes to believe that this means he won, and not the fact that he just took the head of Hubert's cock in his mouth. 

He pulls off, licking a broad, flat stripe from base to tip before taking the head in his mouth again, tonguing at Hubert’s slit.

“Fuck. Ferdinand. Fuck.” Ferdinand feels a tugging at his scalp, and Hubert’s hand wrapping around the ponytail he’d made earlier, and he glances up. Hubert’s flush goes all the way down his chest in the most beautiful way, and Ferdinand half-regrets not leaving marks on his journey down. 

Regardless, he supposes that’s all’s well that ends well, and turns his attention back to what’s at hand, or, rather,  _ in _ hand, as he steadies Hubert’s base with one hand and presses down, tongue pressing against the underside as he forces his throat to relax. He’s woefully out of practice at this, and as much as he would like to swallow down Hubert’s entire cock until his nose is pressed against dark hair and he’s about to choke, he knows it’s not a realistic option. 

So instead, he pumps the base of Hubert’s cock with one hand, focusing his mouth on just the head as the other hand holds his thighs apart. He can hear Hubert’s heavy breathing above him, relishes in the way it turns into a moan and a tug on Ferdinand’s hair when he cups his balls in his free hand, lapping up the bitter taste of precum that gathers at his tip. 

It’s not that Ferdinand hadn’t wanted this to happen, but he does believe that if someone told him the straight razor he’d given Hubert this morning would lead to Hubert’s dick in his mouth while he writhes underneath him, he would have laughed in their faces. 

But, he supposes, this is where he is now, and a sharp pull at his hair brings him back to reality. He moans, and Hubert curses above him as he swirls his tongue around Hubert’s head, twisting his wrist as he brushes his teeth against the frenulum.

“Ferdie,” Hubert moans, long and drawn out, and Ferdinand nearly comes untouched just from the sound of his voice, “You are absolutely gorgeous," Ferdinand squeezes him at the base, drinking in his groans, "Goddess, if only you knew how many times I’d imagined this,” he’s slurring his words now, and Ferdinand whines, pausing his hands movement’s for a moment to once again take more of Hubert’s cock into his mouth.

"If you keep going-" Hubert curses, head falling back against the pillows as he tugs Ferdinand's hair. "If you keep going- Ferdie, fuck, I'm not going to- fuck." 

This seems like the absolute opposite of a problem, and Ferdinand picks up the pace, bobbing his head at a steady pace as pressure and pain shoots through his scalp the tighter Hubert holds on. He grips Hubert’s thighs, takes a deep breath, and hums as he forces his throat to relax and presses forward. 

The moment Hubert’s cock hits the back of Ferdinand’s throat, several things happen in succession: Hubert lets out a throaty, high-pitched moan. Ferdinand pulls back. Hubert comes, hips lifting off the bed as he spills into Ferdinand’s mouth. Ferdinand starts, mouthing in an uncoordinated fashion at Hubert’s dick as he forces himself to swallow. Caspar bangs his fist on the wall behind them, shouting that if Ferdinand doesn’t keep it down he will come into his room and chop his dick off. 

Ferdinand pauses for a moment, embarrassed, before he props himself up, Hubert’s softening dick slipping from his lips. 

To his credit, Hubert looks just as mortified as Ferdinand feels, mouth dropped open in a perfect little  _ O _ . 

“I suppose I forgot how thin these walls are,” Ferdinand says sheepishly, crawling up the bed to collapse at Hubert’s side. He’s still half-hard, but he fears that Caspar may have killed the mood in a way that only Caspar can. 

“That was… embarrassing.” Hubert covers his face with both hands. 

Ferdinand rolls over, smiling down at Hubert and brushing his hair off his forehead. “It is alright, Hubert. Caspar is harmless.” 

Hubert merely groans, turning to his side. 

“Hubert,” Ferdinand coos, pressing his chest against Hubert’s back and stretching an arm around his waist. “We can be quieter next time.” He traces shapes on Hubert’s stomach, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “This is not the end of the world.” 

He listens as Hubert’s breathing evens out, his shoulders finally relaxing under Ferdinand’s gentle touch.

“Better?” Ferdinand asks, brushing Hubert’s hair back behind his ear. 

Hubert nods. “Better.” He pauses for a moment, leaning back into Ferdinand’s touch. “Apologies, Ferdinand. It is not often that I, ah, freeze up about things as I did just now.” 

“Oh, I know,” Ferdinand teases, smiling against Hubert’s shoulder. “Do not worry, Hubert, you can still be your dark-hearted, frightening self. I will not say a word.” 

“And you can still be a thorn in my side,” Hubert grumbles. When he turns to face Ferdinand, though, he’s smiling. 

“Obviously,” Ferdinand says, tracing Hubert’s lips with one finger. “I do not believe we could get through this war if I started agreeing with every piece of drivel that comes out of your mouth.” 

“Drivel?” Hubert’s brow creases. “How you wound me, Ferdinand. And on my birthday, no less.” 

“Hush,” Ferdinand teases. “You told me yourself you do not care about your birthday. And I have already given you not one, but  _ two _ splendid gifts, one of which you have yet to repay me for, and so-” 

He’s cut off as Hubert kisses him, pulling him down with a hand at the back of his neck. 

Ferdinand thinks he’s already getting used to this, the feeling of Hubert’s lips against his, even if the angle is a bit awkward when they’re half on their sides. Hubert, for his part, wastes no time when it comes to pulling Ferdinand on top of him, nor does he waste time in pulling away to nip at his neck in a way that leaves Ferdinand gasping. 

“Hush, Ferdie,” Hubert chides. “And here I thought gifts were not meant to be repaid.” He bites at Ferdinand’s collarbone, pulling the skin into his mouth as he wraps a hand around Ferdinand’s cock. 

If this were another night, with another person, Ferdinand might be embarrassed at how he returns to full hardness with just a few strokes, but Hubert’s chuckle as he presses a too-gentle kiss to the bruise forming at his collar only makes his heart warm. He pulls Hubert back up, drowning his moans in his lips, nipping and licking into Hubert’s mouth as he increases the pace of his hand. 

And, goddess, it may not be precisely what Ferdinand had imagined, but he hasn’t forgotten how Hubert said he’d imagined it, too. The slide of Hubert’s tongue against his, his warm hands around his dick and against his waist, the way Hubert stifles his moans with every press of his lips. 

Climax finds Ferdinand in the middle of a kiss, with Hubert sucking on his bottom lip, his hand giving a particularly brutal twist until Ferdinand’s spilling between them, breathless as he falls against Hubert’s chest. 

“There,” Hubert says, and Ferdinand can practically feel him smiling in the shape of his breath against his cheek, “That’s one gift I’ve repaid.” 

“Fuck,” Ferdinand says breathlessly. He rolls off of Hubert, pulling his hair loose and staring at the ceiling. “Indeed.” 

Hubert laughs, soft and low, and it’d be almost enough to get Ferdinand going again, if he still wasn’t burning with oversensitivity. 

“It has been… a good day.” Hubert says it like a confession.

“Truly?” Ferdinand asks, and turns his head on the pillow. “That is wonderful, Hubert.” 

“Truly,” Hubert says. “I… Thank you, Ferdinand. It may surprise you to hear that my birthday has rarely been made a celebration by anyone save Edelgard.” 

“That does not surprise me,” Ferdinand says. “Though it does sadden me.” 

Hubert’s quiet, and Ferdinand is too, the room being filled instead with the chirp of crickets through the open window. 

“Ferdinand?” Hubert asks, just when Ferdinand’s thinking he’s fallen asleep. 

“Mm?” 

Another pause. 

“Never mind,” Hubert says, and settles closer, head resting against Ferdinand’s chest. 

“Tell me tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Thanks for reading!](https://bizzybee.carrd.co/)


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